Amour
by whysirmesir
Summary: let me tell you something, even the sun rises at the most painful times. (FABREVANS AU)
1. Chapter 1

A/U : I have a feeling writing two fanfics at the same time isn't probably going to be my smartest idea, but im willing to accept the challenge.

This storyline is a little different.

_I swear fabrevans gives me chest pains. _

For starters; this is an alternative universe glee fanfic.

This is only my second fanfic, so i know my writing isn't as good as most of the fabrevans stories on here yet, so bare with me!

Anyway, i hope you guys do enjoy this story! *sits and waits nervously*

- and thank you to the people that are following 'You Could Be My Sanity' as well.

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><p><strong><em>Prologue;<em>**

"I love you." He told her.

"Don't say something you don't mean." She whispered in response, looking back down at the cot where the infant laid wrapped in a white, cloth-like blanket, eyes shut tightly together, releasing silent breathes every 3 seconds.

He walked away after that, much to her relief. She watched him push through the wooden double doors of the hospital, and disappear amongst the crowded hallway of nurses and patients. Had those three words been genuine, maybe events and circumstances would have turned out much differently, but they weren't. They had been entwined with false emotions and cold lies, and putting an end to them felt like a great weight had finally been lifted from her shoulders.

She didn't move from her spot by the window for hours, she just remained still, observing the newborn as it slept peacefully, the corners of her mouth twitching upwards whenever the child's eyelashes fluttered delicately every so often in response to the stirring of others in the room. **_She_** was perfect.

Her gaze then trailed upwards to the little whiteboard hooked carefully above the cot, scanning the words that had been neatly scribbled onto it by one of the red-haired nurses that morning;

**_Elise Puckerman _**

**_29th April 2014 ; 02:27_**

**_7.5lbs._**

However, the sound of the door swinging open with such an unnecessary force, suddenly interrupted her trance and she turned her attention to the entrance to see the red-haired nurse from before standing in the doorway, her hand still gripping onto the handle as she gave her a nervous look before speaking,

_"_Quinn, your father's here."

Quinn's eyes widened at her words, and whilst biting down her bottom lip anxiously, she responded with a slow nod. Taking a final glance at Elise, she reluctantly followed the nurse into the corridor, neither of them breathing another word.


	2. Chapter 2

A/N :

I know this chapter isn't very long but i just want to see what the initial reaction is to this story before i start posting "_essay" style_ chapters.

View it as a teaser if you wish.

Ah okay. Here it goes...

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><p><em>Chapter One;<em>

_[13 months later]_

Quinn Fabray couldn't help but stare absent-mindedly into her red, plastic cup as the surround system blasted throughout the house, making any conversation inaudible. House parties had lost their effect on her a long time ago, before she used to be the life and soul of the party, making sure to socialise with every person she came across, being apart of every drinking game possible, even if she wasn't the host in most cases if felt like she was, but that all drained away 13 months ago. Truthfully, this was the first party she had attended all year, and as soon as she had allowed herself to step through the door she instantly regretted it. The brief glances and muffled whispering as she glided through the large of crowds of people stood in the hallway to the kitchen was enough to make her want to confess to Santana that coming here was a mistake and run straight back out the front door. But she had drawn-in a deep breathe, _downed at least 4 cups of whatever beverage she first laid eyes on, _and found a fairly isolated spot in a corner of the lounge, and that was were she had remained for the last hour or two now, watching as guests attempted to dance with no rhythm or co-ordination, drunkenly argue with one another, or pass out.

Santana had stumbled over a few times, trying her hardest to persuade Quinn to "let loose" and dance with her, but eventually gave up after the fourth decline. She didn't want to be here, but it was the last day of the summer break, after this weekend the pressure would be on, college applications, SATS, it was all about to hit them ten times harder than previous years, and quite frankly failing to show up to the last party of the summer would have just added to multiple rumours already flying around the year.

_"Qu-inn.. Fabray. It's time to dance baby!"_ a slurred voice squealed in her ear out of nowhere, as a palm rested on her left shoulder for balance.

_"Jesus, Tina how many have you had?"_ Quinn had to grip her arm to help the girl balance on her own two feet.

_"Only two?"_

_"Tina.."_

_"Hmm.. plus six more."_ the brunette giggled, barely conscious as she stumbled her way back through the crowd and towards the bathroom, obviously to do the inevitable.

The room felt almost as intoxicated as the people inside it, it was practically suffocating and the constant image of couples making out was starting to make her stomach churn. The urge for a refill was the motivation Quinn needed to draw her away from the lounge, pushing through the throng of sweaty bodies and wasted 18 year olds and out into the backyard where iced-barrels full of multiple bottles stood perfectly alined against the brick wall. She quickly checked the time on her iPhone, seeing how long she had left of this torture before it could be classed as a reasonable time to start trekking home.

_10:43. Only two more hours to go. _

Scanning the bottles bobbing along the surface of the ice cold water she eventually found what she was looking for, triumphantly grasping the transparent bottle filled with gold liquor.

_"Tequila, huh? A Quinn Fabray classic."_ the startling sound of a slurring, husky, voice nearly caused her to loose grip of the decanter. Apparently addressing her by her full name seemed to be a continuous theme for greetings tonight. She hadn't even noticed the shadowed figure lamely leant against the wall on the opposing side, nor the red sparks that seemed to float from his mouth to his side and repetively back again, but Quinn didn't have to see his face to know who the voice belonged too, and she could have kicked herself for not realising earlier that of course, _he_ would be here.

_"Do I not even get a hello kiss?"_

_"Piss off, Puck." _

The bluntness in her tone seemed to sparked his full attention and even though she couldn't see his reaction in the darkness, Quinn could practically hear him gaping at her in shock before running a hand down his face in frustration. Her hazel eyes had narrowed, and brows frowned as she watched him push off from the wall and wobble towards her, his terrible lack of balance exposed that he had been drinking for a couple of hours.

_"Better watch your liquor there, Blondie."_

_"I'd say its more the other way around, wouldn't you?" _

He didn't respond and simply pulled his cigarette to his lips, looking away towards the party as if their conversation now bored him. Despite hating his guts, Quinn couldn't help but be slightly sympathetic to him. He reflected the image she was a month ago. A wreck, an empty, emotional mess and she knew she was partly to blame.

_"Puck go home. You're drunk, and who knows what kind of trouble you'll end up getting yourself tangled into if you're not careful."_

_"How could you give her away. Just like that? Without a second thought?"_

Quinn could feel the colour draining from her face with every word he said, he was trying to crack her, she knew his manipulative ways and for once she wasn't going to helplessly stand there and take it. Turning on her heels, she began to walk towards the back door, when a sudden, ice cold palm wrapped itself around his wrist like a snake, yanking her back to her original spot.

_"You make me sick."_ he growled through gritted teeth.

_"Puck, you're bruising my wrist."_ But her plea only added to his rage as his hands then gripped both of her upper arms, and began fiercely shaking her, his face barely inches away from hers.

_"You're nothing but a worthless, little slut."_

_"Puck, please."_ Quinn croaked, her eyes now watering as his palm came into contact with her right cheek, leaving a burning discomfort. She tried fighting against him but her strength was weak. It wasn't until he abruptly tried to crash his lips onto hers that Quinn really began to try and wriggle herself free, knocking her head from side to side to try and prevent him from gaining any access, she was practically pleading him to stop but he refused.

The touch sent a shiver down her spine, but not in a good way and before she could even register what was happening a sharp, pain rippled through her body as her back was slammed violently against the layered brick walls of the building, the piercing sound of the bottle colliding with the concrete ground as it slipped from her clasp deafened her gasp. The grip on her shoulders tightening constantly. His lips only inches away from her ear, whispered "Slight Deja-Vu huh?" causing Quinn's entire body to stiffen. The smell the stale beer was practically suffocating her as Puck breathed heavily onto her face, and the look of anger in his chocolate brown orbs was enough to make her entire body shudder. He was ten times more dominant in the situation and the only effective defence she had was the high pitched scream that was desperately trying to escape her mouth.

It all turned to a blur for Quinn after that. Vaguely she could remember Puck being ripped away from her, and thrown to the ground; followed by a tall, mysterious figure then swinging a fist repetively into his face and stomach as a crowd formed in a circle around them blocking Quinn's view of the combat and the red liquid now sprawling into the cracks of the concrete. Santana had appeared at her side in an instant and dragged her inside the house away from the violence and away from Puck. She had received a strange, death glare from Mercedes Jones, which Quinn didn't quite understand the reasoning behind, as she was guided through the kitchen and into the deserted hallway.

The sudden clash of events had made her head spin and her legs cave in as she was bustled into the backseat of Santana's sister BMW and driven away from the chaos.

The last thing she remembered was Santana pulling her into a hug and reassuring her that _"Everything is okay." _But she didn't understand why. Why Santana looked more shaken up than she did or why her sister had insisted in the car that Quinn crashed out at theirs instead of going home, "_Just to be on the safe side." _

It didn't make any sense.

**But after that she blacked out. **


	3. Chapter 3

A/N :

First things first, i am so grateful for the lovely reviews that i have already received for this story.

im glad you guys are interested in the plot and i guess now the pressure is really on to make sure i don't disappoint you with the future chapters.

which actually leads me onto my next point— i apologise for the delay of this chapter, im just taking my time with writing it, making sure its up to a good standard and that is will be enjoyable for you guys.

i will try to speed up the process a bit though from now on.

it's a little shorter than i intended but regardless here it is; chapter two.

enjoy.

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><p><em>Chapter Two<em>

She knew she had to get up at some point.

It must have been around noon by now.

Glancing to the left she saw Santana sprawled on a mattress, with her head tucked away underneath a pillow. Glasses of water and headache tablets had been placed on a nightstand between their two mattresses, making the whole scene far too familiar for Quinn. In the past, whenever she and Santana went out to a party or god knows where else, Santana's sister, Myckala would always be there to pick them up and take them back to her place to avoid the drama of their parents witnessing them in such a bad state; and then every morning they would wake up with a glass of water and tablets by their side to help cure the hangover.

Exhaling a deep sigh, Quinn managed to push herself up into a steady sitting position. She didn't miss this feeling at all, it brought back far too many bad memories. This time she was just thankful that there was no excessive vomiting during the night/early morning.

There was muffled groan from the tangled sheets in the mattress next to her, alongside abrupt movement as Santana finally exposed her face to the daylight. It was envious how flawless the latina still managed to look in the mornings, even after a night out. She stared blankly at the wall in front of her for a few minutes before turning her attention to Quinn.

"I feel like fucking death."

"Trust me death sounds a lot more appealing than this after-effect."

The corners of Santana's mouth curled upwards slightly, as she reached for her glass of water, Quinn replicated her actions stretching out her right arm to retrieve her saving grace— the cuff of her sweater rising slightly, unfortunately issuing a distraction for Santana as she noticed the minor exposure of a shadow on Quinn's wrist. The quest for her glass disappeared, as her left hand diverted to grab Quinn's arm, pushing up her sleeve frantically to reveal multiple dark purple bruises shining on the skin.

Quinn's eyes followed her gaze, and in all honestly she too was just as shocked at the prints marked on her lightly tanned wrist. As remembrance of the drama from last night flooded back into thought, she could begin to feel her cheeks burn with humiliation. Snatching her arm out of Santana's grip, she began to furiously roll back down her sleeve.

"Come on, San. We all know how I bruise like a peach. It's nothing. Im fine." She retorted nervously.

"Quinn, that is not fine."

Santana's eyes were still transfixed on the now covered area of her arm that had just previously been exposed. Her face provided numerous facial expressions at once, but the most significant one stood out evidently— concern.

"That fucking bastard." She whispered.

Quinn threw the remaining headache tablet into her mouth and gulped the water in one go as if it was a shot, before rising to her feet.

"Puck was basically paralytic, it was probably just an accident. Its fine— I'm fine."

"That was _not_ an accident. If that guy hadn't have jumped in and saved your ass, then who knows what would have happened. Those bruises were just the beginning. Intoxicated or not, he knew exactly what he was doing Quinn."

The blonde shook her head timidly, the words escaping Santana's mouth were hitting full speed ahead and she couldn't tell if it was that or the liquor from last night that was causing her head to spin so much— she just prayed the painkillers would kick in preferably soon.

"It wasn't like that."

"Stop it, Q." The sudden sharpness in Santana's tone made her entire body stiffen, "Stop making excuses for him. He's a fucking psycho and you know it. I don't care about your past with him. Leaving marks like that isn't right and you know it."

Santana was on her feet now, her blood was practically boiling, she had always been extremely distressed when it came to the _relationship_ between Puck and Quinn— she detested him. Everyone knew that. He used to treat Quinn like crap, and she would just stand there and take it, as if she felt like she deserved it. For Santana it was heartbreaking to watch, and on numerous occasions both herself and Brittany had tried to talk sense into her but it had been no use, and it seemed even now, regardless of everything that had happened, Quinn still found it challenging not to slip into old habits.

"You have to realise that you can't keep giving the time of day to people who clearly don't give a shit about you, Q."

"Santana he's in _pain_. Of course he's going to act out."

They were inches apart now— staring each other down. Whenever they usually got into a fight all it takes is for one out of line comment to set off the alarm of a slap. Normally Brittany would step in before it managed to get too heated, and somehow calm Santana down, but she was still in New York at the moment with the rest of her dance class.

"Im pretty sure you didn't set out to physically hurt people when you were in pain?"

"That was different."

"You're really trying to justify this?"

"Santana, you're blowing this out of proportion."

A sarcastic, humourless laugh escaped the latina's mouth, as she abruptly threw her hands in the air.

"Can you hear yourself right now? Like seriously Q, this is ridiculous."

"I just think people are painting him out to be this evil person when—"

A perfectly manicured hand was raised to her eye level cutting her off, and surprisingly this time its intention was not to leave a pink rash on the side of Quinn's cheek, instead it desired silence.

"Don't even finish that sentence. Q, if he was this freaking saint that you're trying to make him out to be, then he would have been there by your side for the 9 months you were pregnant; he would have defended you when Karosky called you out as a slut in front of the entire school; he would have been there when you had that fall and nearly lost Elise; he would have been there when your dad kicked you out and you had nowhere to go; he would have been there when you went into labor. Quinn, if he cared, and i mean if he **really** fucking cared, he would have never made you give up Elise."

_That struck a nerve._

"But Santana I was the one who gave her away—"

"No, you didn't. He's manipulated you into thinking that it was your choice when it wasn't. He's trying to make you seem like the bad one here. When it's him, Quinn. It's him, how have you not figured that out yet."_  
><em>

A blank, emotionless expression swept over Quinn's face as the realisation of the moment finally seeped in. Closing her eyes, she gazed into fields of nothingness as she felt the water creep out of her eyes, and Santana pulling her into an embrace.

"Im sorry, Q."


	4. Chapter 4

_A/N; _

Hello my lovelies,

I just want to say a quick thank you to everyone who is being so patient with this story, I know this chapter took a lot longer than expected to be posted. I re-wrote it about 20x and_ truthfully I'm still not 100% satisfied but we'll see how it goes. _

Thank you for all the amazing reviews as well, I'm so glad you all seemed to be enjoying this storyline, it's taking a while to kick into the main plot but thankfully its starting to fall together now.

Now I'm on Christmas break, I've managed to get a bit ahead with the chapters and plot, so through the New Year, you'll be seeing a lot more frequent updates.

Woo!

_I've tried a different style with writing this chapter, let me know if you guys think its too jumpy or just doesn't seem right and i'll try and edit/alter it over the holidays. _

Anyway, I hope you guys all have a lovely Christmas!

_And here's Chapter three..._

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><p><em>Chapter Three<em>

**_My mind runs away to you_**

**_With the thought I hope you'll see_**

**_Can't see where it's wandered to,_**

**_But I know where it wants to be..._**

The strong scent of espresso smothered his nostrils as he pushed through the glass door of the coffee house, instantly greeted by the sound of multiple voices conversing at once. The place was packed, just how he liked it.

"Sam! Usual, mate?" a clean shaven waiter shouted, as he approached the counter. Responding with a slight nod, Sam rested his crossed arms on the surface.

"Busy day today, Mike?" He asked, scanning the vacant tables that surround the petite room. It fascinated him how different the placed looked crammed with customers compared to the scene before opening hours.

"Manic. Only two more hours and I can clock off though." He sighed, as he frantically whizzed between the coffee machine and till.

Mike was a workaholic, if he wasn't making latte's and cappuccinos, he'd be in the dance studios rehearsing and vice versa. He had a goal in life, and the money from work combined with the talent and experience from the studios helped him strive that one step closer to it. Sam had always admired his determination and the way he managed to balance everything on top of school work, without complaining once. _He was practically unstoppable._

The sound of the doorbell chiming for a new arrival caught both their attentions, as they watched a delicate blonde gracefully push her way the throng of people towards the counter. Smiling sweetly as she innocently apologised for causing an illusory inconvenience.

Releasing a deep sigh when eventually she reached her destination, the blonde collapsed her body weight against the side of the counter, flashing a bright grin at Mike, and barely acknowledging Sam sat on the little stool next to her.

"Fabray! What can I get you, darling?"

Sam watched intently, completely captivated by her flawless complexion— for a second he doubted whether or not she was even real, or just a figure of his imagination. He hadn't eaten in over two days now, he began to wonder if his mind was playing tricks on him in his most vulnerable hour— but as her bag was carelessly dropped to her feet, knocking his the tip of his shoe in the process, he was automatically drawn back to reality.

"No coffee for me today Mike, I'm being forced to do this weird detox shit with Santana for the next two weeks. If I'm going to try and get back on that cheer squad I need to at least start working on getting the image back." Her smile quivered slightly, as what seemed to be a realisation daunted on her, but she managed to handle it too well for anyone to notice a fault, well other than Sam of course. "I actually just came in to check the timing of your performance tonight? I asked Finn but obviously he can't remember."

Sam was entranced with her mannerisms, the way she charmingly propped her chin on the palm of her hand as she lightly rested her elbow onto the counter mixed with the little roll of her eyes as she mocked her friends forgetfulness and the angelic smile that curled for no significant reason.

_She was hypnotising._

"8 o'clock. But Tina wants to do pre-drinks with you guys at the bar so I'd say try and get to the venue for at least 7:30?"

She nodded enthusiastically before glancing around the coffee shop with such curiousity— eventually landing her gaze onto Sam.

He could have mentally punched himself for the awkward upward slant of his mouth that uncontrollably appeared upon his face as they locked eye contact for the first time.

"Evans, right?"

Astonished that she was even aware of his presence Sam began to rub the nape of his neck timorously— now too intimidated to even continue to look her straight in the eye. **  
><strong>

"Uh, yeah. How did you—"

"Finn's mentioned you a couple of times, but I guess now I can finally put name to face... What happened to your eye?"

Sam had completely the forgotten about the purple ring that tightly wrapped itself around his left eye. Taking a sip of his beverage, he absentmindedly grazed over the dark bruise.

"Uh, I have a seven year old brother who still hasn't learnt the controls of a remote helicopter yet."

The corners of her lips curled upwards slightly at his response, her eyes practically glistening with every word he spoke.

"Oh... I'm Qu-"

"Quinn Fabray, I know."

Now it was her turn to wear the confounded mask. Arching an eyebrow filled with curiosity, her smile soon faded as she pressed her lips tightly together into a thin line, fiddling with the gold band wrapped around her index finger timidly.

"Right."

"Actually, Q. Sam and his lover are coming to the show tonight as well, so I guess you can be in charge of introducing them to San and Britt?" The asian barista quickly piped up, re-entering himself into the conversation again the queue of customers finally began to quieten down.

Quinn's eyebrow seemed to raise even higher at the suggestion, although to why, Sam wasn't quite sure.

"Mm, of course! Well I better head home and start getting ready anyway. But I'll see you both tonight." Leaning over the counter she perched a friendly goodbye kiss on Mike's cheek before turning to look at Sam, "It was good to finally meet you."

She was already halfway down the aisle when Mike suddenly shouted her name so loudly, Sam could have sworn an old man sat in a booth in the far of the shop jumped in his seat.

There was a bright flash of tangled blonde hair flying around when Quinn spun on the spot instantly.

"You do know he's back in the neighbourhood again, Q?"

It was like watching the colorant of a painting being washed away with a single splash of water. All the colour and emotion faded away from Quinn's face, to an extent where Sam became worried she wouldn't be able to hold her own body weight for much longer. She caught his eye unexpectedly and for a second everything seemed tranquil. Until something seemed to snap inside of her, and forcing her best smile possible, she tucked an imaginary loose strand of hair behind her ear.

"I know." She whispered, barely audible for the two guys to hear.

And then with that she vanished amongst the large bundle of customers that had just entered the shop.

Leaving Sam remained seated at the counter, trying to identify the strange, rushing feeling in his stomach that followed her absence.

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><p><em><strong>I'm waiting patiently though time is moving slow,<strong>_

_**I have one vacancy and I wanted you to know that...**_

It only took two rings for Quinn to pick up Santana's call.

Santana never rang anybody, she only did texts. Calls were for more serious matters that she felt the need to tell someone urgently about.

Flopping onto her bed, the receiver still clutched to her ear, Quinn released a deep sigh and braced herself for what was about to be said.

"Do I even want to know?" She breathed, placing a palm over her eyes.

There was a pregnant pause on the line from Santana's end, which left Quinn feeling even more nauseous.

"He's going to the performance tonight, Q. He rang Mike an hour ago saying he's going... Taking a girl with him as well."

_shit._

Quinn hadn't even noticed her entire body stiffen. Biting her bottom lip harder than intended, Quinn managed to pull herself up from the bed and wander over to the wardrobe. She could hear Santana's ragged breathes as she awaited a response, as well as a faint muffled voice in the background, to which she assumed was Brittany.

"I'm still going. I'm supporting my friend. I have Finn, you and Britt. It will be fine."

She waited for the exhale of relief from Santana down the line, but it never came.

"Are you going to tell him about the confirmation of agreement for being able to visit Elise?"

"No."

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><p><strong><em>You're the one designed for me,<em>**

**_A distant stranger that I will complete..._**

Exactly 6 hours later he found himself once again absorbed by the deep swirls that coloured her pupils, they were a delicate cinnamon with a deep brown rim around the iris. The golden black mascara on her half-opened eyelids adding a smoky, dramatic look.

She reminded him of a cheetah, prowling into the dark night unnoticed by others— stalking and spying in the dark alleys. Her cat-like eyes seemed to look through the dark recesses of peculiar anomaly that was usually hidden behind a mask. Her feline features somehow matching her personality— silent and alert, almost unperceived.

Her delicate fingertips cupped a wine glass with such elegance, as she conversed with her companion— pausing every now and then to draw the rim of the glass to her red stained lips.

A couple approached them, from what he had heard Sam guessed they must be Santana and Brittany, and once again he became fascinated by the way she courtly rose from her seat to greet them.

_He had never seen such a flawless sight._

When her arousing stare fell upon him, he looked away, catching the eye of his girlfriend sitting next to him. Her stare was cold, stern and full irritation— a complete contrast to the ghost of Grace Kelly.

"You're doing it again." She whispered, barely audible.

"What?"

"Don't play stupid with me, Sam. All you've done since we got here is stare at her." She glanced towards the bar area he had previously been looking at, as an indication— reluctantly he followed her gaze.

"It's not just tonight either. Every time she walks past us in the hallway you lose focus. Every time we are in her presence you get distracted."

Sam remained silent, staring at her speechlessly.

"At first I just brushed it off. I mean every guy in school is like that with her, right? She's Quinn freaking Fabray, every guy swoons for her. But with you I've noticed it's different. Thinking a girl is _just hot_ is one thing, but getting that look of vexation in your eyes whenever you see her with Puck, or in tonight's case, even Finn. _That, _Sam is not normal."

Her tone of voice had turned pensive. The longer he took to respond the more her stomach was beginning to churn.

Eventually he cleared his throat.

"That's not true, Mercedes and you know it. I love you."

_Honesty._

_That was all she wanted._

_And he couldn't even give her that._

She threw him a look of disdain before leaving the table and making her way to the restroom without another word.

Fretfully fiddling with the unused napkin in front of him, Sam waited for her return, inadvertently locking eyes with his ideal prey in the meantime.


End file.
